Rise of the Storm

8 Braeden

"Think we'll have trouble here, sir?" Reno Torresia asked. He'd been with the hussars almost as long as Braeden and was his most reliable captain.

It was their fourth stop of the day, and the sun sat just above the western hills, touching the tops of the budding trees. This was a larger town than any others they'd seen so far even though it was still a distance from the main road. It even had a high wooden stockade and a gate that swung shut as the hussars approached. This one might be a bigger challenge.

"Hard to say," Braeden said. "I'd close the gate too if I saw us coming." Until now, the villages they'd seen had no fortifications. "I'll send Dura to talk to them. She speaks the best Moraltan and maybe they won't be as frightened by a girl."

"Or they'll be more frightened." Reno grinned.

"I'll tell her to act sweet. If she can."

Prompt as always, Franca appeared as soon as Braeden called for her. "Need that gate opened sir?"

"I just want to speak to whoever's in charge here. A town this size ought to have a chief. I'll guarantee his safety. I just want a word."

Franca nodded, jumped off her horse, strode to a cart carrying the lances and found one with a white banner.

"What's that for?" Reno asked.

"So they know we come in peace sir, at least for now." Franca leapt back on her horse and started for the gate, lance straight up.

"Not used to coming in peace, are you?" Braeden laughed.

"Can't say I ever have." Reno looked offended. "What's the point of all this anyway? There can't be many rebels left after Kaleva, and even if any are on the run, they'd never come this far west."

"I agree. Still, we don't give the orders."

They both looked at the gate as Franca cantered back.

"That was quick," Braeden said.

"The person you want to speak with is already there. She's not a chief exactly; more like the last chief's widow and mother of a future one."

Braeden hoped he'd be dealing with a person of sense. So far, he'd found the Moraltan commoners to be even more proud and stubborn than their princes, which made for plenty of trouble.

Braeden picked a few others to join him. He kept the entourage small since it looked like the town would cooperate. "You too, Dura," he said to Franca. "Your Moraltan is better than mine."

As they neared the gate, it opened a crack, and several people came out. One was a woman in a bright blue dress and yellow turban. Two churlish-looking young men accompanied her. Intelligent gray eyes gleamed out of her sun-lined face, and Braden hoped she'd be less stubborn than she was smart.

Braeden jumped from his horse, and threw the reins across the saddle, knowing Kazmir would stay put. He made a small bow as he stood in front of her. In these matters, it didn't hurt to be courteous."Braeden Terris of the Novitny Hussars, in service of her Imperial Majesty. I have a few questions and we'll leave your town in peace."

The woman's mouth quirked upward on one corner as if she didn't believe him. "You can call me Zluba. I'm in charge of affairs here in Martiz. What do you want?"

"We are looking for rebels who've defied the empress. You might have heard that several Moraltan princes sought to overthrow her. We've defeated and arrested them, but some of their supporters are still at large."

"Are you accusing us of rebellion?"

Braeden met her glare. "No, I am not. I am asking if any strangers have come here in the past few days. People you might not otherwise see, who might attract attention. I have a list of those who are still wanted."

"I'll look over your list. But I can answer your question right now. You are the first strangers we've seen in these parts in at least a week. As you know, we are not on an important road, and the only people who come here are peddlers and farmers selling in our marketplace."

It seemed she was telling the truth, but Braeden had to press a bit more. "Yes, but that also makes it an ideal hiding place for rebels."

"That may be, but that doesn't mean you'll find any here. You're welcome to search anywhere you like, and I'll tell everyone to cooperate."

"That's very kind." He sensed he wouldn't find anyone here. Outside Kaleva there were few commoners among the rebels, and it was easy to track down nobles trying to hide anywhere other than their own estates.

"Thank you for your help." He reached back for Kazmir's reins. "We'll be on our way then." He wanted to get through the last few towns in the marches and put Moralta behind him.

She seemed surprised. "You believe me then?"

"Should I not?"

"You should, but it's unusual for armed men to leave without picking a fight."

Braeden shrugged. "It's no fun fighting civilians."

She finally allowed a real smile. "Then you are an unusual man Terris, and I wish there were more like you. Before you go, would you and your men stay for a meal?"

It was nearing supper-time, so Braeden said, "That's most kind. I won't ask you to feed everyone though. They're like a swarm of locusts."

"Why don't you and your group here come to my house? We'll send sausage, cheese and ale out to the rest."

"Thank you," Braeden nodded to Franca. "Send word that everyone but the pickets should set up for supper. Then come back here."

Zluba looked at Franca's retreating form. "It's unusual to see women among the hussars."

"It's somewhat uncommon. But any girl who's good with a horse and lance is welcome in my banner."

Zluba took his arm as the gate swung open before them. "I like you. Maybe I'll keep you. We could use a tame hussar or two in these parts."